Return'd and gracious purpose thus renew'd.
Not only these fair bounds, but all the earth
To thee and to thy race I give; as lords
Possess it, and all things that therein live,
Or live in sea, or air, beast, fish, and fowl.
In sign whereof each bird and beast behold
After their kinds; I bring them to receive
From thee their names, and pay thee fealty
With low subjection; understand the same
Of fish within their wat'ry residence,
Not hither summon'd since they cannot change Their element to draw the thinner air.
As thus he spake, each bird and beast behold Approaching two and two; these cow'ring low 350 With blandishment, each bird stoop'd on his wing. I nam'd them, as they pass'd, and understood Their nature, with such knowledge God indu'd My sudden apprehension: but in these
I found not what me thought I wanted still; 355 And to the heav'nly vision thus presum❜d.
O by what name, for thou above all these, Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher, Surpassest far my naming, how may I
Adore thee, Author of this universe,
And all this good to man, for whose well being
So amply, and with hands so liberal,
Thou hast provided all things? but with me
I see not who partakes. In solitude
What happiness, who can enjoy alone,
Or all enjoying what contentment find?
Thus I presumptuous; and the vision bright,
As with a smile more brighten'd, thus reply'd.
What call'st thou solitude? Is not the earth
With various living creatures and the air
Replenish'd, and all these at thy command
To come and play before thee?
Their language and their ways? They also know,
And reason not contemptibly; with these
Find pastime, and bear rule; thy realm is large. 375
So spake the universal Lord, and seem'd
So ordering. I, with leave of speech implor'd,
And humble deprecation, thus reply'd.
Let not my words offend thee, heav'nly Power, My Maker, be propitious while I speak. Hast thou not made me here thy substitute, And these inferior far beneath me set? Among unequals what society
Can sort, what harmony, or true delight?
Which must be mutual, in proportion due,
Giv'n and receiv'd; but in disparity,
The one intense, the other still remiss,
Cannot well suit with either, but soon prove
Tedious alike: of fellowship I speak
Such as I seek, fit to participate
All rational delight, wherein the brute
Cannot be human consort: they rejoice
Each with their kind, lion with lioness;
So fitly them in pairs thou hast combin'd;
Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl, 395
So well converse, nor with the ox the ape;
Worse then can man with beast, and least of all.
Whereto th' Almighty answer'd, not displeas'd.
A nice and subtile happiness I see
Thou to thyself proposest, in the choice
Of thy associates, Adam, and wilt taste
No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary.
What think'st thou then of me, and this my
Seem I to thee sufficiently possest
Of happiness, or not? who am alone
From all eternity; for none I know
Second to me or like, equal much less.
How have I then with whom to hold converse, Save with the creatures which I made, and those To me inferior, infinite descents
Beneath what other creatures are to thee?
He ceas'd, I lowly answer'd. To attain
The highth and depth of thy eternal ways
All human thoughts come short, Supreme of things,
Thou in thy self art perfect, and in thee
Is no deficience found: not so is man,
But in degree, the cause of his desire
By conversation with his like to help,
Or solace his defects. No need that thou
Should'st propagate, already infinite,
And through all numbers absolute, though one.
But man by number is to manifest
His single imperfection, and beget
407 Second] Hor. Od. i. xii. 18.
• Nec viget quidquam simile, aut secundum.' Newton.
Like of his like, his image multiply'd,
In unity defective, which requires
Collateral love, and dearest amity.
Thou in thy secrecy although alone,
Best with thy self accompany'd, seek'st not
Social communication; yet so pleas'd
Canst raise thy creature to what highth thou wilt 430 Of union or communion, deify'd;
I by conversing cannot these erect
From prone, nor in their ways complacence find.
Thus I embolden'd spake, and freedom us'd
Permissive, and acceptance found; which gain'd 435
This answer from the gracious Voice Divine.
Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleas'd,
And find thee knowing not of beasts alone,
Which thou hast rightly nam'd, but of thy self,
Expressing well the spirit within thee free,
My image, not imparted to the brute;
Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for thee
Good reason was thou freely should'st dislike,
And be so minded still: I, ere thou spak'st,
Knew it not good for man to be alone,
And no such company as then thou saw'st
Intended thee, for trial only brought,
To see how thou could'st judge of fit and meet.
What next I bring shall please thee, be assur'd,
Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,
Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire.
He ended, or I heard no more; for now
My earthly by his heav'nly overpower'd,
Which it had long stood under, strain'd to the highth In that celestial colloquy sublime,
As with an object that excels the sense,
Dazzled, and spent, sunk down, and sought repair Of sleep, which instantly fell on me, call'd
By nature as in aid, and clos'd mine eyes.
Mine eyes he clos'd, but open left the cell
Of fancy my internal sight, by which
Abstract as in a trance me thought I saw,
Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape
Still glorious before whom awake I stood;
Who stooping open'd my left side, and took
From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm,
And life-blood streaming fresh; wide was the wound,
But suddenly with flesh fill'd up and heal'd.
The rib he form'd and fashion'd with his hands;
Under his forming hands a creature grew
Manlike, but different sex, so lovely fair,
That what seem'd fair in all the world,
seem'd now Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contain'd And in her looks, which from that time infus'd Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before, And into all things from her air inspir'd The spirit of love and amorous delight. She disappear'd, and left me dark, I wak'd To find her, or for ever to deplore
463 the shape] the same. Bentl. MS.
#15 unfelt] Fairfax's Tasso, xix. 94.
'A sweetness strange from that sweet voice's sound
Pierced my heart.'
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